Her Firecracker (The Fireworks Series)

by Laney Powell

  Her Firecracker

  The Fireworks Series

  Laney Powell

  Copyright © 2019 by Laney Powell

  All rights reserved.

  Her Firecracker

  Spar Island #11

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Happy Fourth of July! Welcome to Milltown, Co, population 15,000, where the only things hotter than the annual fireworks show are the men in uniform looking for love. Join the authors of Flirt Club in The Fireworks Series of stories that celebrate summertime, BBQs, and all things that end with a bang!

  Where will you be when the fireworks go off?

  Her Captain’s Deck by Dee Ellis

  Her Declaration of Independence by Poppy Parkes

  Her Firecracker by Laney Powell

  Her Hot Shot by Alexx Andria

  Her Massive Missile by Amelia Wilde

  Her Private Party by Alexis Adaire

  Her Roman Candle by Fiona Starr

  Her Smokin’ Firefighter by Tracy Lorraine

  Her True Blue by Sierra Hill

  Her Yankee Doodle Daddy by Rebecca Gallo

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Epilogue

  The Fireworks Series

  Welcome to Flirt Club

  The Spar Island Girls

  About the Author

  Also By Laney Powell

  Serena

  “You’re sure everything’s OK?” I asked, watching Shawn carefully. He’d been distant and off for the last week. As it was the week before our wedding, and we were about to go down to our rehearsal dinner, I felt like I needed to ask.

  He looked up at me then. It was as though he was seeing me for the first time. Then his mouth stretched into a smile, and his eyes warmed. “Serena, honey, it’s fine. I’m just… nervous.”

  “We can talk about it, we can talk about anything,” I said.

  His smiled widened, and he pulled me close to him, kissing me softly on the mouth. “Everything’s fine, baby. Trust me.”

  He held my hand as we went down to meet our families and closest friends. The rehearsal dinner went off without a hitch. I lay in bed the night before the wedding, allowing myself to breath. I was glad I’d talked with him.

  The Next Morning

  I stared at the person in front of me. His lips were moving, and there were words coming out of his mouth, but I couldn’t understand what he was saying. Something I needed to pay attention to. I knew that. Something that was important.

  But nothing seemed important at the moment.

  Gone. Gone. Gone. Gone. Shawn was gone. He wasn’t going meet me down at the end of the aisle out there in the church. He wasn’t going to be there. He was gone.

  He wasn’t coming back. For all the words coming out the mouth of the man in front of me—Gene, Shawn’s father—nothing else mattered.

  Then Gene said, “It’ll all be fine, Serena. Trust me.”

  My head felt like it was spinning, and I was not able to keep my feet. I reached out to Gene in front of me, hoping I wasn’t going to throw up on him. Although maybe he deserved it for having a shithead of a son like Shawn.

  With that thought, my eyes closed, and everything went blissfully dark.

  One Year Later

  I rolled down the window on my car, singing at the top of my lungs to Bohemian Rhapsody. I hadn’t felt this good in a long time. I was still single, but in hindsight, that was not only a good thing, that was a great thing. I’d just left Boulder, where I’d seen my friend Malloy Simmons. Well, she was Mallory Simmons for now. She and her boyfriend, Sebastian, had just gotten engaged.

  Mallory was one of my friends I’d met from our girl gang at home. All our parents hung out, and then as we got older, we all hung out. Taking out the family boats, spending the day on the tiny land spits in Mt. Hope Bay known as the Spar Islands—those had been some of my best memories. So I’d been thrilled when Mallory called me and invited me to stay.

  Mallory had invited me out here last year, after I started feeling human again, and we’d driven all over Colorado, her showing me her favorite places. One of the places was Milltown, famous throughout the state for its fireworks display. I’d missed it last year, but I wouldn’t be missing it this year. Nor for a number of years to come.

  Because I was moving there and buying the Milltown Bakery. I’d fallen in love with Milltown when we went through it last year. It was a bit smaller than Bristol, but I’d be all right with that. It wasn’t Bristol, and that was the important thing.

  I’d gotten a bunch of money back from Shawn’s parents for the wedding. I was going to turn it down, but my mom had pulled me aside and asked me what was wrong with me? I’d put up most of the money for the wedding. She said I needed to take their offer and go do something good for myself. Then I sold my engagement ring, and that gave me a nice sum, as well. In addition to the satisfaction of never having to see it again. Added on to the money I’d been saving for us to buy a house—I had enough to change my life entirely.

  I’d been working like mad at the Hannah House Bakery, and I was making cakes and pies and cupcakes and anything that could be baked with sugar during the time I wasn’t working, so I did that even more. Which added more to my stockpile—but I didn’t do anything.

  Until Mallory and Sebastian had called me, and told me the Milltown Bakery was going to close, and they’d been in to see if the owner was willing to sell, and it turned out that he and his wife were willing, for the right person, and they’d talked me up, and all that was left was for me to come and see the place and sign the papers.

  They were that sure for me.

  I took the weekend off and flew out to see for myself. As I’d driven into Milltown, the sense of peace, and rightness had washed over me. This was where I was supposed to be.

  Dave and Clara, the owners, were delightful. I’d inspected the bakery and made them an offer that night. It didn’t hurt that Sebastian, a renowned chef in his own right, had already given the place the once and twice over.

  Clara confided in me that they had always been willing to sell, but only to someone who understood and loved Milltown, and the offers they’d had been from large chain bakeries.

  “That’s not Milltown,” Dave said, shaking his head.

  So now it was done. I was the owner of a bakery and a mortgage, and I was out of Bristol. I’d given myself a week to get settled and start baking. Since the bakery was in good shape, I didn’t have to do anything. I wasn’t even planning on doing a ton of redecorating. Not just yet. Dave and Clara spread the word that I was coming, that I was amazing, etc., etc. I wanted to keep things as they were, for the most part, so that people would keep coming in. Because, hello, mortgage?

  Even better, Dave and Clara were going to help me open back up for the big Fourth of July celebration, and introduce me to everyone. While I was nervous as hell, this was going to be perfect.

  My car dinged at me abruptly, interrupting the best part of Bohemian Rhapsody. I was on empty.

&nb
sp; “Shit,” I muttered.

  It was another four miles to a gas station, and I pulled off the highway happily. This was mountain country, and there wasn’t easy access to everything. What there was was long stretches of two-lane highway.

  I got some more water, and a few snacks, and finished gassing up my car when I heard the sound of tires rumbling over the pavement. The driver revved their engine, and I looked over my shoulder to see a man in an open four-wheel drive vehicle. He stopped the car opposite me and shut the engine off.

  It was ten thousand times quieter. I glanced at him, and a thrill of…appreciation? Raw desire? Flashed through me. He was gorgeous. Tall, built, dark hair, strong chiseled face.

  I rolled my eyes at myself and closed the door on my gas tank. I knew the type. And although my brief glance had shown me that the driver was very attractive, and very well built, I didn’t need this kind of guy in my life again. One no-show for a wedding was enough.

  Without allowing myself to look at him again I got into my car and drove away. To my new life.

  Nate

  I watched the woman with brown hair in a messy bun—I was such a sucker for messy buns—drive away. I hadn’t missed her annoyed expression when I pulled in. Well, the old girl was loud, between her engine and her tires. I’d been out wheeling today, going over Park Service trails and enjoying my time off.

  The ass below the messy bun was just as attractive, but the ass and bun had taken off like one or the other was on fire. Shame. I could have bought her and her ass and messy bun a drink, or three. Enough to see if she’d hang out and play with me this weekend. See if she might be the one.

  After twenty years in the Navy, eighteen of that with the SEALs, I wasn’t really looking for The One, but I felt like it was time to start thinking about it. For the first time since I’d signed on the dotted line at the age of seventeen, I was my own man. I did what I wanted—well, on my days off. Part of me said a woman would complicate things—but the other part of me asked if I wanted to die alone?

  So there was that.

  “Nate! How are ya?” Chris, the gas station owner asked.

  I came here because Betsey, my gray beauty of a Land Rover Defender, was a diesel, and Chris had the best price on diesel, even if he was half an hour outside of town. Plus, it gave me an excuse to drive further than my house to the firehouse. After six months at home, I was ready to go stir crazy.

  But I couldn’t leave. Shaking my head, I moved that to the back of the Problems list. That was a problem that no one could solve. I was doing the best I could, and at least I was saving money.

  Living with my parents. At thirty-seven. Put that way, I deserved all the hell the guys at the station gave me.

  “I’m good. Enjoying the weather on my day off,” I said.

  “Don’t blame you. Although with the fourth coming, you are going to be mighty busy,” he said.

  “I am counting on it. So is the Chief,” I said. “That’s why I’m getting time off now. Because from the first on, we’ll be busy. Always someone doing something they shouldn’t.”

  He laughed. “I’d like to say it’s just kids, but it isn’t.”

  I laughed with him. As a former ordinance officer, I understood the desire to watch things go boom. It had been a regular source of happiness for me to blow shit up. To get paid to blow shit up? Even better. I’d done my twenty years, and now I was home. The fire department was the perfect place for me. Except now I had to see all the creatively stupid ways other people tried to blow shit up. Unfortunately, not being professionals, sometimes they blew themselves, their homes, or their cars up.

  “No, it’s never just kids,” I agreed.

  We chatted about the town’s fourth of July celebration—one of the biggest in the state and very impressive—and the local happenings. When my tank was filled, I paid and told him to stop by. As I pulled out of the gas station, I wondered where Miss Tall and Brunette had been headed.

  It had been a while since I’d had someone spend any time with me.

  For good reason. Living with the parents was not conducive to any sort of romance, and while they were still married, and would die that way, it was more intense than any of the war zones I’d been in the past twenty years. My parents, though I loved them both to death, were lethal together. I swore I’d never be like them.

  And they wondered why I’d run off to the military the minute I could?

  Because a war zone where there was actual shooting and declaration of hostilities was far better than the war zone where it was undeclared.

  My mom was on my ass these days about how it was time to settle down, find a girlfriend, marry her, all that jazz. Thankfully she wasn’t harping too bad, because there just weren’t a lot of candidates. Although Tall and Brunette with the messy bun could have been a contender.

  Which is why I was out enjoying my freedom today. I didn’t need to hear Mom, even though she meant well. I was more than aware of my own single status. At least I’d be busy with work the next week.

  I’d also volunteered to be on the crew setting off the town’s fireworks, and that, I was looking forward to. It had been a while since I’d lit any fuses.

  Which made me think of Tall and Brunette. I laughed out loud. Now there was a fuse I’d like to light. But she’d sped off like she was on fire, and not in a good way. I hated to admit it, but I needed a girlfriend. Because I didn’t want to die alone.

  That could be tough in Milltown. While there were fifteen thousand people, it was small. And boy, did they talk. I’d had more women throw their daughters, and sometimes themselves, at me since I’d come home six months ago. As much as I didn’t want to die alone, I didn’t want to settle. My parents had, and look where that got them. Not to mention making me afraid of making the wrong choice. And I hadn’t met The One. Not yet.

  Abruptly, I turned Betsey off onto a trail. I’d go out and bounce around today for an hour or two before going back home. Take the edge off a little.

  My grin widened. If I couldn’t have Tall and Brunette, there was always Betsey. She was always there for me. I slowed and put her into four-wheel drive. I had a backpack full of supplies, and there was water in the back.

  I’d stay out all day. It was going to be perfect.

  Serena

  I pulled into town a little later and drove to the bakery. It was one of the older buildings in town. I had loved it as soon as I saw it. Even better, from my point of view, was the small apartment upstairs. I was buying not only the business, but the building. Me, my bakery, and all my storage could live happily in the same place.

  This was so much better than my sideline catering gig.

  My parents hadn’t understood why I needed to do this. They didn’t see any problem with me staying in Bristol, alone and unmarried, while my ex cavorted around doing whatever he wanted. They didn’t see that it hurt, or that I had to restrain myself from stepping on the damn gas when I saw him dragging some unsuspecting girl around.

  No, far better that I come out here, and start fresh, where no one would look at me with sympathy, or worse, pity. As I drove through town, I saw—oh, my Lord. Was that—it was.

  It was a naked man. Well, almost naked. He was wearing a hat that kept the sun off his face, and there was a small thong sort of thing around his midsection. As he turned to cross the street, I saw that his private bits were covered, barely. I nearly missed the space as I parked outside the bakery.

  I’d called Carla to let her know that I was close, and they’d agreed to meet me here. She opened the door before my feet hit the sidewalk. “Serena! Glad to see you, honey! Come on in!” Her arms were wide open. It was the best thing I’d seen all day.

  You know, outside of the ruggedly handsome man at the gas station. But he was a passing fancy, and this was real.

  “Hey, Carla,” I said warmly, letting her hug envelop me. “Thanks for coming over.”

  “Of course! We wouldn’t let you come in here all on your own. I brought you somethi
ng to eat, too. I figured you’d be hungry.”

  “Hey, girl,” Dave said, also coming in for a hug. “Now that you’re here, we can give you your keys. It’s going to be us who has to call first,” he said to Carla, his tone and expression fond as he looked down at his wife.

  “And thank goodness,” she sniffed. “I loved working here, and now I’m loving not. We’ve gotten an RV, and after we get you through the fourth, we’re off to Yosemite!”

  “That sounds fantastic! You don’t have to stay here just for the one day, if you’d rather get going,” I said. They were so happy with their future plans; I didn’t want to hold them up.

  “Nonsense,” Carla said. “The fourth will beef up the cash register, and give people a chance to see you, know you. The locals keep you going, although we get tourists all year round. It will make it easier for you to be here and be successful if they see us wishing you well.”

  “Which is why I think you’re smart to keep some of our ideas in place,” Dave added.

  They had a breakfast muffin club, where Dave’s apricot muffin recipe (that he’d shared with me) was the star, and they opened at night for a couple of different community groups. If I could keep half their business, I’d be fine.

  “Well, let’s get you and your stuff in, and then we’ll see about firing up all the ovens,” Carla said. “After we eat, of course, and do some gossip,” she beamed at me.

  Dave laughed. “I was going to say we could let you get yourself settled, but that’s not going to happen.”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” I said. “I have to ask, who is that?” I jerked my head In the direction of Mr. Hat-and-thong.